when the end came
by a-perfect-melody
Summary: "We're just kids," and her voice breaks a little. "And you don't think these things can happen to you when you're children."/ "What do you think it would've felt like if he'd won?" / "Happy. Like the 'happily ever after line at the end of fairytales." / VoldemortWins!au


[_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and accept no credit towards it. I am not J.K. Rowling nor am I in any way affiliated with her.]_

* * *

when the end came

_For Bailey, one of the loveliest people I know. I can't apologise enough for it's lateness. I hope you enjoy it! _

_Warnings for language and a very generous helping of angst (of which I might have gone slightly overboard with.) _

_Prompts below. _

_without further ado..._

* * *

Ever since the war, ever since the end, she can't say she's really been living.

If all you're doing is sleeping, breathing, _hoping_; isn't that more an existence? Isn't that just merely holding on? Holding on to something that has already slipped so far from your reach?

She can remember the girl she used to be, if she tries hard enough. Back when life was a game, and the boundaries were her school, and fairytales and happy ever afters really existed.

Then the end came and Harry toppled and her dreams smashed and fell like glass phials in an earthquake.

There is no longer a place she can call home anymore, except perhaps Neville's arms.

He's a bit broken too - they all are these days - but she's never been one to judge and he accepts her, he _loves_ her, and that is more than enough for her.

They're staying in a dingy little hut on the outskirts of Devon, a lonely, miserable place because it's hidden, it's secret, it's safe, but there's mould on the walls and a trace on magic and everything just feels a little bit hopeless.

Hermione drops by from time to time. She looks thinner each time (and never takes Luna's advice on eating more Freshwater Plimpy soup) but maybe that's just because her best friend died at seventeen and she doesn't know how to hold on anymore.

That's all anyone's doing, really. Just trying to hold on.

Neville manages better than most. Luna's only ever seen him cry once, and that was the day Harry died.

She still can't forget the look of anguish on Neville's face as Harry fell.

Nor can she forget the pain that erupted from somewhere inside her chest as she watched her friend, the boy who'd spent so long protecting others, lying lifeless on the floor because, somewhere along the way, people forgot that he needed protecting too.

Luna doesn't know where Harry is now.

She hopes that he is safe.

.

The Order is still alive, barely.

There's hardly anybody left to hold it up anymore but Ron and Hermione do the best they can.

Shell Cottage is the new Headquarters: it's small and cramped but better than nothing so they make do.

Hermione holds meetings every so often, using the galleons she designed so long ago for Harry and the DA. Nobody mentions this, but everybody's thinking it; every time the coin flashes hot in their pockets, they're secretly praying Harry will be there to meet them when they arrive.

Luna aches for those school days when danger meant Filch might catch you out of bed, not mass murder and slaughter in the streets.

.

Hermione calls one such meeting the day that should've been Harry's 18th birthday.

Their group is noticeably smaller than last time, and those that are left are drooping, their eyes not as alive as they once were.

Luna watches as Hermione swallows, her eyes flickering around the empty spaces.

"I," she says and then stops. "I'm so sorry, everybody." Tears begin to trickle down her face.

Luna and Neville grip hands tightly under the cover of their robes.

"We're just _kids_," Hermione says, her voice breaking a little. "And you don't think these things can happen to you when you're children."

And the room falls silent and Luna knows that everybody is thinking of Harry.

Under the tangle of clothing, Ginny finds Luna's free hand and clutches it tight.

"Harry was..." Hermione closes her eyes, as if she's remembering better times. "He was our best friend." She gives Ron a small sad smile. "People called him The-Boy-Who-Lived but he always was _so much more than that_. He was brave, one of the bravest people I've ever known. He was my first real friend. If he were here now," her voice catches a little. "If he were here now, he'd be the one giving this speech and he'd be doing a much better job than I am. Oh, Merlin," and here she seems to talking directly to Harry. "You don't know how much we all wish you here right now," she pauses. "I just wanted to say happy birthday to a beloved friend. We," and a tear rolls down her face. "We miss you."

Ginny lets go of Luna's hand and steps forward to throw her arms around Hermione.

The room falls very silent for a moment.

Then slowly, one by one, people start clapping, filling the room with a deafening roar.

"To Harry," Ron says and squeezes Hermione's hand. "To the best mate anyone could ever ask for."

"To Harry." Everyone echoes and the room feels...not better but less broken than it has in weeks.

.

Later, when they're back in their hut, huddling together on the dingy bed for warmth, Neville says to her,

"What d'you think it would've been like? If he'd won?"

Luna pauses for a moment.

"I think it would've felt happy," she answers finally. "I think it would've felt like the 'happily ever after' line at the end of a fairytale."

"Wish we lived in a fairytale," he mutters.

"No, you don't," she says. "Haven't you ever read one? People die all the time."

"Just like here," he says.

"Just like here," she echoes softly.

There's a short lull in the conversation as the wind howls around the hut, rattling the windows and whistling eerily through the draughty rooms.

"I'm sick of running," he says suddenly. "I'm sick of hiding. I just want..." he breathes in deeply and runs his fingers through her hair; it's much longer than it used to be. "I just want us to feel like we're home again."

"We are," she says, entwining her fingers with his. "As long as we have each other."

Their eyes meet and, for a moment, all of the words in the world fall away.

Then, Luna says suddenly,

"It was your birthday yesterday," and he looks at her, eyebrows creased in confusion.

"You remembered."

"Why didn't you mention it?" Luna asks.

Neville shrugs.

"I didn't think it was important. Y'know, with what's going on."

A pang of guilt hits Luna's chest. In the gentlest voice she has, she asks,

"What would you like?"

Neville closes his eyes and rolls onto his back.

"To be happy," he says wistfully. "To grow old with you."

"Forever?" She asks softly.

"Even forty years with you would be breathtaking." He says and the world around them fades to a blur as he kisses her.

.

This can't go on forever.

(Can it?)

It's wonderful, feeling safe again. (Even if it is just a vague feeling and your heart still pounds every time you hear thunder outside).

But, the awful part is that they both know this isn't going to last.

It's his birthday (sort of - they've decided to hold a meagre celebration to get everyone's spirits up) and it's just the two of them - nobody else has shown up yet - and she's made him breakfast, he's managed to crack a joke or two - and it could _almost_ be like old times.

"I couldn't find a cake," she says apologetically, presenting him with a single lit candle. "You can still make a wish, if you'd like?"

"Absolutely," he says, giving her that grin that makes her feel dizzy inside. "I-"

He is cut off by the front door swinging open and a sopping, bedraggled Hermione staggering inside, her clothes soaked in a horribly familiar dark red and her eyes sporting a look so broken that Luna wants to hug her tight and never let go.

Instead, she forces herself to draw her wand, pointing it at Hermione's chest as Neville asks the security question with a tremor in his voice,

"What was the spell you cast on me in first year, before you snuck out to look for the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Petrificus Totalus," Hermione says, and her wand shakes in her unusually unsteady hand as she asks,

"Which bone did you break during our first flying lesson?"

"Wrist," Neville says automatically; they've practised these so many times it's second nature. "Oh, Hermione, thank _fuck_."

He runs to her and hugs her tight. Luna is not far behind; she lets out a small squeak as she flings her arms around Hermione, so glad that she is safe.

"What's wrong?" Neville keeps asking, over and over, and Hermione just shakes her head, trembling from head to foot.

"Ron's dead," she says and it's all she manages to choke out before she collapses on to the armchair and starts _sobbing_.

And Luna's knees buckle because the freckly, redheaded boy who always made the best jokes and was steadily loyal till the end suddenly isn't there anyone and the people he's left behind are just _breaking_.

Neville sinks to his knees beside Hermione, his face deathly pale.

"Are you sure?" He keeps saying. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"A- a raid," Hermione says, her breath coming in short and hysterical waves. "We didn't expect it. We- we were talking and- they surrounded us- and Ron, he wouldn't- he wouldn't come with me to the apparition point- said he needed to buy me more time-" and here she is overcome by tears and she buries her head in her hands, unable to continue.

Luna is by her side in an instant, clutching Hermione's hand between her cold fingers.

She looks to Neville, who leans against the wall, running his hands through his hair over and over again. Luna recognises the gesture at once, she practically knows it off by heart, because it's one Harry used to do when he was agitated.

And seeing this, seeing Neville like this, seeing Hermione broken, triggers a memory, and suddenly Luna can see him again.

Harry.

And in her eyes, he would always be the boy who believed in her, and not The-Boy-Who-Lived (but not for long enough.)

.

They sit together that night.

Eventually, Ginny apparates, and when she hears the news, she shoulders it with the same steely look in her eyes the day her parents died.

But Luna can see the tremors in her fingers and the way her eyes blur with hot tears, and so, she helps Ginny to a seat, and the four of them sit there in silence, listening to the waves pound on to the beach.

.

When morning comes, it is with grim faces.

Luna doesn't know what to do so she makes tea and they all just sit there, sipping tea and feeling numb.

Finally, she spits out the question on all of their minds.

"What are we going to do?"

And she looks round at the faces of her friends; Hermione, Ginny, and Neville, and she wonders if she took them back in time six months ago, if they would even recognise the lives they turned out to lead.

"What we do best," Neville says suddenly, his eyes blazing with a determination Luna hasn't seen in months. "We're going to fight back."

Hermione's head snaps up.

"We are?" She asks, her voice barely the ghost of what it used to be.

"Think about it," Neville says. "We've been trying for months to build up to an attack and none of those plans have worked. Why not? Because, think about it, Hermione, our best plans have been the ones we never thought out. Like you, and Harry, and Ron saving the Philosopher's Stone, and - and Harry in the Chamber of Secrets. So-"

"We fight. Catch them off guard. Just charge in there completely blind," Ginny finishes, speaking for the first time that day. She sits up a little straighter and rubs her eyes, smiling shakily. "Harry would've liked that idea."

"Luna?" Neville turns to her. Luna nods; she doesn't think she's felt so sure about anything in weeks.

"Hermione?" Ginny says, taking

Hermione's hand and squeezing it.

Hermione bites her lip, looking on the verge of tears again.

"It's just so empty here without them," they hear her whisper and her eyes dart around the room, as if searching for the ghosts of the people she lost along the way.

A "yes," escapes her lips as she nods to Neville's proposal. "Yes, _of course _I'm in."

"When do we leave?" Luna asks.

A furious determination sparks in Neville's eyes.

"Now."

* * *

_sooo, now that I've just made myself cry..._

_prompts: _

_neville/luna_

_angst_

_if we were vampires (song) _

_"I'm sick of running, I'm sick of hiding, I just want..."_

_post war (kind of?) _

* * *

_so, as you see, I may have interpreted the angst prompt a little too literally. but seeing as you wrote such a gorgeous story for me, Bailey, I hope you like yours. Xx_

_I can't thank you all enough for reading. Reviewing would be especially nice. Xx _


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